Harpoon Fishing: 3
I had everything I thought I needed: a week's worth of clams; my sister's spear; clean clothes, along with a fresh change if needed; a few coins of the King's gold, as was all anyone would accept in these lands; and a map leading to the nearest village. Also, of course, I wore my precious chain around my ankle. I had the thought of asking anyone here for help in discovering what the star map would lead to, as many sailors in town relied on stars to guide their journeys in the late night, but I was afraid anyone here would only try to discourage me. As far as they should know, I'm still grieving my father's death and only want time alone. Bridgette is the only one who knows the truth. I go around town to say friendly farewells, and despite my groaning conscience, find myself at the smithies' house. Marcus would want a goodbye, he deserved one, right? I wander into the forge looking for him, only to find his older brother Adrien. Asking where to find Marcus, I'm told that he went looking for me. "Why?" I ask. "Said he wants to go with you," the tremendous voice replied. "Told him father wouldn't approve, and that you likely wouldn't either, but he insisted. I suppose he might be in his room about now, gatherin' belongings and such." "No!" Without a break in rhythm he responded again, "Aye, that's what I told him. Tristan, too," the oldest brother. "Oh, but of course he didn't have anythin' to say to the either of us, only had ears for his one-true-love." It wasn't meant to sound mocking, he liked me and I knew it, but he was annoyed by his disobedient younger brother. "Well, whatever the case, you can't let him follow me." "And why's that? I'm sure, truthfully, you'd want to be alone at a time like this, but there can't be any harm in a lovin' fella keepin' watch on your behind all the while." He laughed at himself for a second, then finally returned to smacking at his anvil. The metal was likely to be cold, but I suppose he was the expert. "I'll be sure to tell him you stopped by, and that you don't want him goin' anywhere. Can't say he'll do much to listen, but there you have it." I raised my voice a bit, to be heard over the anvil. "You have to keep him here at all costs, please." He was silent for a moment, stopped hammering to give me a strange look. He must have been confused, I would fawn over Marcus at any other occasion. Why, now, would I possibly not want the only person I truly wanted with me, to not be with me? "Listen, this away time I'm taking, it's more than just mourning. Believe me, I'm past that. It's
just, harder to explain right now." He looked back down to his piece of work, noticing it had almost completely cooled he dropped it back into the glowing embers of the forge beside him. I got a good look at him from the side. The blacksmiths wore very little clothing as well, but that was due to the heat of the forge burning so close and indoors, mostly. He was shirtless under his leather apron, and firm in his motions while he stirred the hot embers. He turned again and I was graced with a nice view of his ass. It was about as firm as the rest of him looked, though hiding under tight cotton shorts. He strained to push down on the massive bellows that would reheat the forge, keep it alive. I noticed something in me coming alive. Feeling ashamed, I shouted one last time, "Keep him home, got it?" Turning to leave I heard him utter "Aye" one last time. I'm such a moron. How could I do that? I've been around Marcus's brothers before, and they've always been comfortable with me, I've looked at them before and they've looked at me. We had a kind-of understanding about the whole thing, and it didn't involve anything more than looks. I guess, technically I was single now, and the part of my brain that knew that was looking for someone. But I wasn't, and it certainly wouldn't be Adrien. I ran into Bridgette on the way out, nearly knocking her over. "Woah," she exclaimed, "there you are. I told everyone you said to tell, they all believe it... What were you doing here?" "I think you should know," I grumbled. She had to have noticed the redness in my face. "What'd he say?" She asked about Marcus. "Nothing, he wasn't there." Looking away, she had thoughts swimming through her eyes. She bit her lip to keep from laughing, and I only got more red. She definitely noticed. I turned and stormed away, she would only try to have more fun with it, I know. I wanted to cry: I felt like I had cheated on Marcus, which was only stupid of me. I made it almost all the way back to shore before I noticed she had kept her distance. I was cooled down now and she approached more cautiously. "It's a good thing the forge wasn't too hurt by the fires." That's true. "I hadn't even thought of that." Marcus still had his home. His family still had their business. "That's good," I said, "The town will need their hands and tools to rebuild," speaking of the blacksmith and his
sons. She nodded slowly, wanting to agree with me. I inquired as to what she was thinking, "It's just," she answered warily, "you might need hands that help you rebuild." I got a little angry again. "No, I can't bring anyone with me." I turned and started walking back toward my traveling things. "I don't know what there'll be, I don't even know where I'm going." "Marcus might, though, he's been to the village to trade." She was trying to convince me to let him come? "Whose friend are you?" I demanded, turning back to her. "Both of you," she insisted, "and a good enough friend to be able to tell that you need each other." "Each other...?" She nodded, "You've spent so long, in fear of his father, looking away from him; and every time you look away, he looks at you. I've spent enough time wanting you myself to tell that he definitely wants you." I looked away, a tear creeping from my eye. I reached up to feel my cheek. Nana had treated the wound on my face some time before so it didn't hurt, but I feared that whenever I cried I would recall it. I vowed, right then, that I wouldn't cry anymore. A hard promise to keep. I finally said something back to Bridgette, "I can't." She almost said something else but I continued, "I want him, I do... But I don't want him hurt." I didn't turn to see her, but she was shaking her head. "If you leave now you will hurt him." "Not as badly as if I bring him with me." "You can't believe that. He needs you, Damien. You need --" "I need to get over him!" I shouted, turning to her once more. My face was red again, I could feel it, but this was anger. Fear. "I need to get over him, so I don't lose him." She looked at me, I looked away. I felt hot, in the morning sun and all my clothes. I wanted so badly just to strip down and dive into the cool water. I couldn't, of course, but I wanted to. Turning away, I headed down the steps to the beach. Tents had been raised for those without homes, campfires lit and food cooking. School lessons began for the obedient children, but now without desks or a blackboard. Sailors were on the docks, tending to their vessels. Mothers were with their young, calming them and playing with them. I was walking away from the home life I loved, the life I wanted. The life I couldn't have. Everything I needed rolled into a sack to hang over my shoulder, save the map that would lead me to my new life. Bridgette was behind me again, but refused to say anything. She knew she couldn't change my mind any more than I could. I was on my own. I gave her one last hug and set off. It would be longer than I'd ever walked before, and my pants were already uncomfortable between by legs. It was a loose-fitting outfit, so that I would not be too uncomfortable in the long walk. I was grateful someone knew about that sort of thing, because I certainly didn't. The sun was still low, but bright, and I was walking toward it until noon. It wouldn't be too pleasant. I gave Nana a hug goodbye, too, then set off. A few yards away, I took one last glance back. The village was in shambles, but everything was peaceful, happy. I sighed, and returned to my quest.Half a day's walk took me to a fork in the road. Taking my map from its pocket in my sash, I tried to read it. It was about as confusing as the star map. The compass rose showed north, the sun came from the east, the village was southeast, right?. But hadn't Gail told me to go left at the fork, toward the north? What did these triangles mean? How could I tell if there was a mountain in the way? I think that's a river, but it might be a highway for carriages. Or was the highway south from here? A section of the map looks discolored, darker, and has more triangles and awkward wavy lines. Is that the village. No, Gail said this was the village, symbolized by the little windmill. Wait, that's right. All these shapes and colors were symbols. Did she tell me all of them? She told me there was a legend, that would tell me what the symbols were. Now, where was the legend? Scanning the map, I saw all the same things: The compass rose, village, dirt roads, names of towns and inns, and this sign. This sign, between the fork that could take me to my destiny, or to danger. What was I thinking? My destiny was danger. Wasn't that the point? No matter, I had to find the town first and foremost. I flipped the map and was relieved to see every shape and color organized in rows, with titles beside them. The legend helped explain everything, and I was unexpectedly grateful. The road split because of a low mountain that was home to families of goats, a note saying they weren't friendly to strangers. The village of Cheese Curd was mainly east of my position, with a slight bend leading south and another fork. It would be another day on foot, but an inn called the Stallions' Spirits was on the northern road. Gail had told me to stay the night there (she had given me a
wink, and I remembered that's where she met Sash). I was to stay the night there and be in Cheese Curd late next morning. The awkwardly discolored area to the south was a swamp, loaded with trees and foul-smelling mushrooms. While the road leading to Cheese Curd might seem shorter that way, it would take almost two days with a guide to traverse those lands. North it was! I packed the map away and began walking again. Having wasted enough time studying, I figured it best not to sit down to eat. The clams tasted fine raw, but I always preferred them boiled with some pepper. I didn't have the time or supplies to prepare them that way. Slinging my sack to my front, I dug through the folds to get to the mussels inside. Using my little claws, and a bit of pounding on a nearby rock, I got the first one open and slurped it down. I had three or four, not stopping to hit them all on one rock. I left the empty shells on the side of the road and kept walking. I was tired, more accustomed to swim than to walk, but I was determined. I had to save my sister. As the sun began sinking behind me, I heard an unfamiliar rumbling approaching from behind. Turning I saw a large wagon being pulled by a feral ox. I had seen feral oxen before, and back home I heard stories of a people of Oxen on a continent far west over the ocean. I didn't believe them, cattle had never been more than beasts to me. On the wagon was a squirrel. A tiny thing of a person, but he looked happy. I stepped to the side of the road and allowed for him to pass, but he halted his ox and stopped right beside me. "Well howdy, stranger," what a funny accent he had for a squirrel. "Where ya headin' off ta?" "Uhh..." I was startled by his voice, both by the accent and by how deceptively coarse it was. "Cheese Curd," I finally answered. "Well then hop aboard, I'm headin' there m'self." I smiled at the gesture and began climbing into the back of the wagon, there were baskets of eggs and even a box with a live hen inside. "Oh, now, none o' that," he called, "y'all can hop up here in the front if ya like. Ain't kept old Hellen so long for her smell." I assumed he was talking about the hen. If she was so old then he could likely only hope to sell her for meat. I climbed up front to the stiff wooden bench. He had wiggled aside to give me room, but there was so much already, and shook the reins to get his ox moving again. "So whatcha going to Curd-town for, friend?" "Uhh," this guy was something else,
marvelous really. Regardless, I had no reason to hide anything from him. "I'm on a quest, of sorts." "A quest? You don't say?" "Of sorts, yes." He was a riot! His tone was too low for any squirrel I knew, and his accent was something else entirely. It was all I could do to keep from laughing. "I have to find my family's ancient harpoon, to save my sister." "And what'cher sister's name?" "Uhh," I guess I had stalled an awful lot to his questions. He gave me a funny look. "Oh, don'chu worry none, I'm a married man." "Oh, I wasn't worried," I stuttered, almost laughing at myself. "Addelphe, we call her Addie." "Ancient harpoon..." He reached behind to the wagon bed -- a long stretch -- and grabbed a dry stalk of hay. Putting it in his mouth, he rubbed his chin in thought. I couldn't believe people like this existed! Let alone squirrels. "With a name like hers, sounds like yer whole family's ancient." I allowed a bit of a chuckle at that. I had noticed my parents chose names right out of a history book when I was still in school. Don't be confused, I never listened to the teachers, so I still needed Bridgette to teach me to read. Right out of the history book, there was a great hero by the name of Damien who sabotaged a fleet of "enemy ships" with only his fishing net and spear. The Mistress Addelphe was the first scholar Talassa Town had, and she was credited with building the library. My sister and I didn't live up to our names, exactly. I was afraid of strangers and Addie would rather cook than read. Though she would rather sail or sneak out than cook, but father always penalized her for it. I believe he feared she would raise a spirit like mother's and want to adventure. I don't blame him, she was a feisty girl. "I go by Burben, short for Burbenstein, first name's Ben." That was hilarious, too! At least to me. Ben Burbenstein, what a name! "I'm Damien. Damien Nikias." "Oh your the mayor's boy, are ya? From ol' Talassa," he asked. "You knew him?" He paused, his eyebrows knit beneath his huge straw hat, "'Knew'?" I realized what he meant. "Y-yes. I'm sorry, but he died yesterday morning." "Well there ain't no need t'be apologizing to me," he let go of his leads and turned to me, "how are you?" I was shocked that he was asking. "Uhh," I paused again, "fine, really."
It was true. He gave me a harsh look, "Mhmm," he turned back forward and retrieved the reins. "What's her name?" "Excuse me?" "The girl you left behind, what's her name?" I had no idea what he meant. "There's no --" "Ya got tears dried into yer cheek-fur. I got m'self a number o' sons and grandsons, all got the same salt when they had their hearts broke." I forced a cocky smile, "I'm a sea otter, I have salt in my fur all the time." "But not much like that, I bet. When'd ya last go for a swim?" He caught me. I hadn't been swimming since last night, and Bridgette had made me cry trying to let me take Marcus with me. "So what's her name?" What should I say? I had no need to lie to him, but what would he say if I told the truth? How would he react if he knew I was gay? I was too afraid, "Bridgette," I told him. He smiled and glanced at me. "She sounds pretty.""She sure is," I said with a sigh. Looking away, I kept my eyes on the side of the road. I didn't like lying, it tore me apart lying to everyone back home, but lying to a complete stranger for no reason seemed pointless. "There's... also a guy." He was quiet for a moment. "Beg pardon?" "I mean, I miss Bridgette, but she's not the one I cried for."Silence, much more tense, then, "So what's his name?" I heard spite in his low voice. He didn't want to ask me, but his manners got the best of him. "I... you don't want me to tell you. That's fine, not everyone --" "What's his name, son?" I was startled, "Look, I can tell you don't want to talk about it, so --" "Dangit boy, what's his name!?" I shivered. "Marcus." He smiled, "He sounds nice." I was confused, dreadfully so. Why was he so insistent? We rode in silence for a while. I sat reclined and only watched over the side as the wagon rattled onward down the path. It was a painfully slow, shaking ride, but it was faster than walking, and easier on my legs. I felt ashamed. Burben hadn't truly wanted to know about Marcus, he only wanted me to tell him. He wanted to make
me feel better by telling him I missed a loved one back home. He almost made me angry at myself for bringing it up; at him for demanding like he had. I thought about jumping off, but that wouldn't make anything feel better. Plus, I'd make it to Cheese Curd before sundown this way. After some time, he spoke again, "Shelby's been working real hard for me for some time, don't know what I'd do without her." He was trying to change the subject, the kind old squirrel. I smiled. "I heard about oxen people over the ocean to the west." I meant west, obviously. "Yep," that was all. "Yep?" I asked. He nodded. "You've heard too?" "I seen 'em. Not much for sailing, but in my younger years I traveled far over the globe, found animals and people I'd never thought of before. In fact, I remember seeing otters, like yerself, only about as big as me. Couldn't even speak, sorry beasts." That was hard to believe. "In the end, I only come back to my father's farm. I bet you're bound to find some amazing creatures in your travels, son." He pulled on the reins again and we came to a stop. I was about to ask, but he only said, "Gotta take a leak." I figured I might as well too. According to the map, we still had quite a ways to travel.